


The Heart of a Swordmaster

by Merfilly



Category: Dune Series - Frank Herbert
Genre: Authority Figures, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-09
Updated: 2008-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan returns to his Duke, and pledges fully</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart of a Swordmaster

Leto entered the room where Duncan was just resettling himself. It seemed almost like this man before him was a stranger, and yet, Leto hoped this was not true.

"Duncan?"

"Yes, my Duke?" Duncan focused his attention fully on the man that had opened the door to his strongest desires...and had allowed him to attain them one by one.

"I wanted to welcome you home, privately. Your formal recognition at Court will come tomorrow."

"That was not necessary," Duncan demurred, inspecting Leto carefully. He seemed to be in rugged good health, more fit than many who ruled the Landsraadt. That, Duncan knew deep in his heart, would likely be the downfall of his own life, if not the Duke's. Leto was too strong, too compelling, too honest...and that would breed more enemies than any ancestral grudges.

Thufir and Duncan were in agreement that they both would die before those grudges bore fruit in harm to their beloved Duke.

Leto leaned in the door, frankly appraising the Swordsmaster with a puzzled expression he made no effort to hide from Duncan, leading Duncan to grow nervous, making him want to move, to go train, to maybe spar with Thufir. Anything but be at the end of the gimlet stare that made his mind and body lose cohesive discipline.

"My Duke, is there anything amiss? Have I mistakenly worn a tunic of Ginaz instead of one in your colors?" Duncan finally asked, his voice lighter than his heart felt, burdened by the guilt of how deep his devotion ran. Leto shook his head slowly, stepping fully inside the quarters and letting the door close firmly.

"I feel we should have a conversation, before you formally take your place tomorrow, Duncan. A talk of what the future holds for House Atreides, and where you will fit best within both it, and within my life."

Duncan could only barely master the nervous edge of his words, eyes going narrow and his hands moving slowly. One fell to his hilt, while the other rested on his chest in fealty. "I am sworn to House Atreides, and to you, my Duke."

Leto nodded, knowing all this, but seeking more. "A Duke must know the hearts and mind of his men, Duncan Idaho. In you, I see pain and triumph both. This does not set well with me. Either I have not fully redressed the pains that brought you into the service of my father, or I do not know all of them. I need you to show me, Duncan, how I can ease this pain in you, to make you more fully mine in your heart."

Duncan swallowed against the hammering of his heart. Surely that phrasing was merely the use of a personal pronoun in place of the House name. He was no stable boy any longer, nor was he a live prize to be hunted, as on Geidi Prime. But this conversation was threaded with the makings of disaster, while baring him in blazing colors to his innermost shame.

"My Duke, no man could ever be more loyal to House Atreides than I," he told the man in full honesty.

"And to me?" Leto leveled his gaze on Duncan's eyes, commanding nothing but honesty in this one answer to such a dangerous question.

Duncan met that gaze, wanting to close his eyes but unable to. He drew in a deep breath, and spoke clearly. "To you, my Duke, I give everything I am and will be." It was nakedly true, and any Bene Gesserit would have seen the nuances and layers threaded into that comment stamped in every line of the Swordsmaster's body.

Leto was at least as perceptive as the witches, stepping forward with one hand out, the hand that wore the Ducal Signet.

Duncan took it, pressing his lips to it as he also took to one knee.

The hand that curved into his hair a moment later was the acceptance of all that needed not to be said, but was truth for both now.


End file.
